


Opulence

by Moreena



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Clothing, Gen, Military Uniforms, Pampering, self-care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 13:11:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12109446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moreena/pseuds/Moreena
Summary: Treize has need of a unique uniform to announce the fact that he is the youngest general in history since pre-colony times.





	Opulence

**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
> A short Treize piece inspired by this picture I saw the other day. I've never written Treize before, so I hope I've done him some justice!

“It’s not opulent enough,” was all the general said, eyes only glancing up at the mannequin that had been wheeled into the room, dressed in a uniform.

 

The young girl’s eyes widened as she stood slightly aside from her creation, her gaze darting from the clothing back to the general’s stern-looking face. She clamped her jaw shut, teeth digging into her lower lip almost hard enough to draw blood. She was torn between feelings of frustration and overwhelming failure. This was the third mock-up she’d presented to the young general, and it was rejected again. Swallowing thickly, she could only hope that her voice didn’t crack and betray her, even if her facial expressions gave everything away to the man before her.

 

“I’m not sure what else I can execute sir,” she stumbled over, her fingers and hands trembling minutely as she spoke, tucking them further into the fabric of her skirt in attempt to hide the nerves.

 

Treize set his paperwork down on the desk, looking up at the girl for the first time since she’d been escorted in. He looked regal and fresh-faced. Bright-eyed, like he was going to change the world. He was going to bring about great things. At twenty years old, he was the youngest general since pre-colony times, and only the second appointed general of such young years. With his hair slicked back from his face, a person could pick out individual motions when he emoted - if his immaculate poker face gave anything away. He pushed back on the desk, the leather of the chair creaking as he did. Uncurling from his seat with the grace of a cat, he strode around the desk with a long stride, coming to stand directly in front of her.

“Emi, I know I’m pushing you with this. But, you’re more than qualified. I know you can design something befitting the youngest general in centuries. It does not need to stand up to massive wear and tear. It is a formal garment, much like a red-carpet frock that grace superficial starlets. Think of pre-colony Marines. Their stunning blue and white uniforms with all the trimmings. It’s something to be taken out and shown off on special occasions. Then put away until it’s needed again.”

At some point during his small speech, he’d taken up her hand in his own, bringing it up between them, brushing the barest hint of lips across her knuckles. Emi’s face flushed red enough to rival a tomato, brown eyes widening again behind her black-framed glasses. For such tender actions, and a stirring speech for a simple, mousey looking girl as herself, she wasn’t worthy. It was as plain as the nose on her face why and how Treize Kushrenada had risen to his elite status. Everything he’d described, she could vaguely see in her head. Starlets she knew, and had designed for several. It was how her name had been passed along to the general, when a cousin of his had seen one of her causal wear dresses and bought it. Emi wasn’t familiar with pre-colony military fashion, but she could do a little digging and find something.

 

Stuttering, she nodded, new ideas already spinning in her head. “When do you need it by?”

 

“There is a gala in two weeks. I trust that you can have it prepared for the day of, to my exact needs?” He asked, eyes sparkling with the knowledge that he’d charmed her thoroughly, and that she would deliver exactly what he needed and wanted.

 

A uniquely elite uniform, distinct for the youngest general in centuries.

-

He left his office Friday and locked up behind him, out of habit. He’d received word from one of his subordinates that Emi had arrived and had left his uniform in his quarters, under careful watch. She had a pressing starlet to dress for an awards ceremony, and couldn’t stay to ensure his satisfaction. But, she had confidence that this was her best effort for Treize so far.

 

Opening the doors to his quarters, he stood in the entry-way, a hint of a smirk etched across his face. Oh, she had done wonderfully this time around. Treize had known she could do it, and he’d have to send her a thank you gift for something so beautiful. She had done everything. Jacket, pants, boots, gloves, and shirt. 

 

Treize slipped into the bathroom to freshen up. He wanted to linger. Wanted to relax in a hot bath with scented water, but time was something even he could not command, so he compromised the desire with practicality, washing himself with scented body wash and rinsing it away, leaving his skin feeling soft and smooth all at the same time. With sure hands, he coifed his hair into its immaculate slicked-back style, held down with just a bit of product. The pieces of hair that were just a bit too short to stay falling into natural place over his forehead with a hint of a curl to them. Lastly, he applied carefully measured spritzes of cologne to his wrists and neck before he returned to the main room as naked as the day he was born.

 

With reverence, he dressed himself in his new uniform. Underwear and the crisply starched white shirt went on first, the cuffs of the shirt held together with french gold cuff links. Next were plain black cashmere socks to cradle his feet in softness underneath the unyielding leather of his boots. Perched on the edge of the bed, he carefully unfolded the dress pants and pulled them on over his legs, tucking his feet through convenient straps that would hold the pants down. He stood back up and tugged them over his hips, tucking in the shirt all the way around before carefully zipping and buttoning them. They were just as pure white as the shirt, with a wide stripe of gold fabric going up the leg, from ankle to hip on both legs.

 

“Excellent attention to detail,” Treize murmured to himself, sitting back down on the bed to pull the boots towards himself.

 

He eased his foot into the first boot, tucking his fingers inside to ensure the fabric stayed down, a habit from his regular uniform pants. The strapping that Emi had put in made the task far more manageable than it had ever been. He pulled it the rest of the way up, relishing the intoxicating scent of new leather, smiling to himself as he carefully fastened the decorative gold chain that spanned the gap on the side where the boot was left open to accommodate leg movement along his thigh. A furtive glance at the clock told him he’d be fashionably late, just like he’d planned for. He put on the second boot then made for the jacket.

 

It screamed opulence without being too outlandish. People’s tongues would wag, but he was above all of it. He was as untouched as any deity in existence. Treize fastened the white cravat run through with thin gold threading run through it around his neck, just above the collar of his shirt. The jacket was last. It was a jaw dropping piece. Emi had done her work well with it. She’d held true to tradition, but had gone above and beyond. Tradition dictated Treize wear his ribbons and medals pinned to his chest. But, that was going to be impossible. They body of the jacket was a deep navy blue, with a high collar like his usual uniform, and a single tail with no vents to increase the level of formality. Every edge was finished in thick gold edging, including along the high-cut waist of the jacket. The epaulettes were in the same thick gold with fringe. 

 

The eye-stopping part of the piece was the torso of the jacket. On a diagonal bias was thick, raised gold embroidery. Gently sloping curves flowed from the edges of the epaulettes across to the center of the jacket. In between the three sets of curves was recessed embroidery that reminded Treize of thin leaves, almost like ferns. The upright collar bore the same pattern as the chest of the jacket, and it fastened together with buttons, though they were hidden underneath fabric, to give the jacket a seamless look. It fit perfectly, and Treize had to admire himself in the full-length mirror in his closet, tugging at the matching embroidered cuffs of the jacket to ensure they sat just so.

 

Emi had gone a step further than his initial request. His little speech to her mush have roused something in her to send her creativity flowing into overdrive. She’d sent over a pair of pristine lambskin gloves with a gold button to fasten them, which he did, thrilled at the way they caressed his hands and fit perfectly. The last piece was a nod to his off the shoulder cloak he wore, and a bit of a nod to history Emi must have researched. It was a boat cloak, done in solid navy fabric, lined to provide some warmth and would cover the upper part of his uniform if he kept his arms down by his sides. It clasped around the neck with more gold clasps that echoed the details of the jacket underneath, and the detailing on his boots and gloves.

 

With one last look at himself in the mirror, Treize smirked before he schooled his face into that unbreakable poker face he’d long ago perfected before he waltzed out of his quarters for the dinner he was already late for. He would show all those old stuffed shirt generals that age was just something to overcome. That he didn’t need to have decades of experience to lead a revolution and change the future of both space and earth.


End file.
